A Story to Tell
by lissy303
Summary: Alistair asks his Warden companion to share her beginnings with him. She soon discovers that she's not quite ready yet. But she realizes that Alistair is her ally, her friend, and... something else?
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **My first attempt at Dragon Age fanfiction! Yay! I've written stories before for other media (under different usernames), but I'm excited for this! I admit, I've only just started playing DA a bit ago, but I'm so enthralled with the characters, and the different plotlines for different Wardens. Alistair is by far my favorite character, so I think much of my work will center around him. But we'll see Enjoy! This story will be a three parter (I think… I have plans for three chapters, but who knows, one more might sneak up on me!) ._

_**Disclaimer:** Nope, don't own nothin'. Arya is the Warden that I'm playing right now. City Elf, rogue, mostly good, but snarky._

"So, you're turn. Tell me where you came from."

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your body is unable to move. Memories begin flashing through your mind. Soris. Shianni. Vaughn. Father. _Nelaros…_

"I can just see you now, you little elf. Duncan was there to recruit someone else, wasn't he? And you just fought your way to the front of the line and said, 'Here I am! Ready for all the battles and darkspawn I can get my hands on!' Ahh, who would've thought that a tiny elf could swing around her daggers like that? How'd you convince him?"

You're still unable to move, still staring at your bag you were packing. The smile that had been caused by one of the many jokes Alistair made fades from your lips, though with your back to him, he has no way of noticing. The faces of the people back home continue to flash through your mind, and Alistair's voice seems so distant now. You realize he's still speaking, but you can't understand his words. His sudden laughter snaps you back to reality, and you realize you're not ready to talk yet.

"We should keep moving. We've stayed here far too long," You say, closing your bag and walking away, never looking back.

"Arya," He calls softly, his voice full of surprise, but you don't stop. Your dog, now noticing you're moving, comes padding to your side, but you don't even stop to pet him, not even to smile. He faithfully continues with you, though you know your lack of affection has confused him. You call to the others to start packing, and walk away from the campsite without them.

You come to a small peaceful lake just outside of your campsite, just far enough away for the privacy you need, yet close enough you'll be able to hear your party's calls when they are ready to leave. You sit at the edge, gazing out and watching the steady ripples in the water. Your loyal companion sits next to you, his massive body slightly unsteady on the uneven ground you chose to sit on, but he never waivers, not even when you lean against him. Your dog may act silly at times, but he is smart, and knows that your lack of affection is not personal against him. He continues to sit quietly, knowing that his presence is enough for you.

_The wonderful thing about dogs_, you think, _is that they don't ask questions._

The gentle waves lap up against the rocks by your feet, and you feel your head beginning to clear again. You realize that you're being unfair to Alistair; Maker knows that he has shared much of his personal life with you. Many of your party members have, though Sten has yet to. You wonder if he ever will, yet you're perfectly content with not knowing. Though his past may be shady, you trust him, and he trusts you. That is all the two of you require of each other.

Yet Alistair is different. He uses his witty comebacks and sarcasm as a shield against his pain, yet he was quick to bring that shield down for you. You have poked and pried well into his past, and he's told you many of his secrets, so why is it that you cannot tell him any of yours?

Time flies quickly, and by the time Alistair finds you, the sun is in a very different position than it was when you left. Your pointy ears hear the clank of his armor and his loud footsteps well before you're in his line of sight, but you don't call out to him. He'll find you.

Alistair comes to your side and shares the fallen log you're using as a bench. Like your dog, he seems to realize that sitting quietly will not chase you off, and you know he will not say anything until you do. Breaking the silence will be up to you.

You let minutes pass by, and Alistair does not move, only watches the lake like you. You wonder what is going through his mind right now. Is it about you? Is it about his past? What possibly lies ahead?

"I'm sorry."

The words are out of your mouth before you even thought to say them. He doesn't say anything in return, just continues his gaze onto the lake. But you know he heard you. You have his attention. And suddenly, you don't want to hold back anymore. Tears spring to your eyes, and you're losing control of your breathing.

_This is not the way a leader should act, _you think. _I should be stronger. The past is behind me now. With so much coming ahead, I must focus on what is to come._

Words begin to babble out of your mouth, but not of your history. "I can't yet. I just can't. It's all too fresh and new. My past… I haven't even come to terms with it."

A sudden realization hits you as you say those words. You haven't, yet. Since arriving at Ostagar, you've avoiding even thinking about your past. Alistair may hide behind his sarcasm, but you hide behind your ignorance. How long has it been? How many days, weeks, months? Has it even been a year yet? With all the travelling, all the planning, all the fighting, you have lost count of the days. Your life at the alienage seems like a lifetime ago.

You look down at your feet, dejected. You feel like a failure. "How can I tell you about my demons when I can't face them myself?"

Alistair remains silent, though you notice that while he still faces the lake, he is looking away from the water, lost in his own thought. Suddenly the silence between you two becomes unbearable. You begin to pray for a response, anything from him, before you completely break down. Alistair seems to be deciding the right words to say. You know he isn't the most eloquent, often opting for sarcastic remarks during personal discussions. But this is your personal life you're discussing, not his. Perhaps he realizes sarcasm is not the best response right now.

Just as you are about to break down, he begins to speak. "I should have realized… I'm sorry. I didn't stop to think that you joining the Grey Wardens might not have been your choice. I was just so grateful and happy when the opportunity came along for me; I guess I forgot that it might not be same for everyone."

He turns his gaze onto you, and you suddenly realize how beautiful his eyes are. You almost forget why you're sitting there in the first place. Almost.

"Look, Arya, I know I'm not the smartest of the bunch here. I'm not the wisest, and I'm certainly not the best with words. I will claim, however, that I am the best looking," he says with this slightest of smiles. A chuckle escapes your lips, and all the tension you felt melts away. "But I've known you the longest here, and with all of our history with the Grey Wardens, I feel like I understand you better than anyone here. Not to say that I understand you. Because I don't. But I'd like to." He runs a hand through his hair. Had his hair always been that thick and shiny? "And there I go again, with mess of words coming out of my mouth."

He suddenly turns bright red, and the next words he says tumbles out of his mouth quickly, almost incoherently, but you're able to make them out. He pulls out something from behind his back, and nearly thrusts it into your hands. You look down and see a beautiful rose sitting in your lap. You're lost in its beauty: something so perfect in such an imperfect world.

"I saw this while looking for you, and I wanted to apologize for being an insensitive idiot, and for never watching my words, and, well, I wanted to see you smile." With that, a smile breaks across your face, probably the biggest smile since this journey began. He smiles too, looking pleased with himself, and continues at a slower pace. "Every Grey Warden's story is different, and too many are painful. If you ever want to, you know, talk, I promise to keep my mouth shut and listen." He stands and offers you his hand to pull you up. You accept, and for the first time notice how strong his hands are. You begin to feel almost nervous and suddenly lightheaded, and you know that it is not from standing too quickly. "We should get back, oh fearless leader, if we want to find another suitable campsite before nightfall."

You nod your head in agreement, and smile when he realizes that he's still holding your hand and drops it ungracefully, embarrassed. You don't quite understand your feelings, but you're glad to know that you're affecting him too.

As you make your way back, you realize Alistair is not going to judge you. He is not going to pity you. He is not going to treat you any different once you tell him. Perhaps he won't understand, but he'll be there to listen. He'll always be there.

Your party begins traveling, trying to find a new campsite in just a few hours. As you lead, Alistair comes up on your right. You look at him, and while his eyes connect with yours, you smile; pleased to see he smiles back. Perhaps you'll take him up on his offer to listen to your story. Perhaps even tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you so much to those who've made reviews! I'm having so much fun writing for Dragon Age. I think the best thing is that all authors have such different perspectives for their Warden character, which makes sense because we've all played the game differently. What more, we all have different perspectives on the other characters themselves. When I play the game, I really despise Morrigan (I haven't gotten too far in the game, but every time she opens her mouth I want to smack her. Now that Wynne's with us, Morrigan's usually not in my party). But I just read a fic where the Warden and Morrigan have a heart to heart, and the author did such a phenomenal job keeping that harshness Morrigan has yet showing her vulnerability. I'll have to pay closer attention to Morrigan next time I play._

_OK, enough ranting. Here's chapter two!_

Night has fallen. Tents are pitched and the campfire is made just as the last beams of the sun fall below the horizon. The day's journey had been tiring; the rocky terrain was more difficult to travel on than you expected. Every party member was worn and ready to rest. While your body calls for sleep, your mind is wide awake, contemplating your past, and whether or not you're ready to talk about it.

Your party members begin trickling into their tents: first Morrigan, wanting to escape into solitude, and lastly Alistair, probably hoping you'll speak now that everyone has disappeared. But even as he sits beside you by the fire, chatting away about something silly and lighthearted, his eyes begin to droop, and his stories are frequently interrupted by his yawns. You send him to his tent. He's hesitant to leave you, but you promise to wake him for second watch. He walks away, looking over his shoulder one last time to look at you, perhaps hoping you'll call him back. You continue to gaze into the fire instead, and watch out of the corner of your eye as he disappears behind the flaps.

You stare into the fire, happy for the solitude. Even your faithful dog has fallen asleep, right outside your tent, waiting to go inside when you join him. The flames take shape in front of your eyes, and you find yourself seeing the faces of those you left behind. You have been thinking about your past since Alistair brought it up, and now it seems to be haunting you. You're beginning to realize that they only way to dispel your ghosts is to talk about them. Admitting your mistakes to someone might put them to rest.

Suddenly, you want to tell Alistair everything. Right then and there. Confess everything to him to get it off your chest. But it's nighttime, and he'll he sound asleep by now. He needs it, after the day they had. You shouldn't be selfish and take that much needed rest away from him. But you need to talk, and you need to talk now.

"My dear Warden, I'm surprised to see you still awake."

You jump up, grab for your dagger, and whirl to face your intruder, only to realize that it's Wynne. You return the dagger to its sheath, trying to calm your fast-beating heart. "Wynne, you gave me a fright, what are you still doing up?"

"I could ask you the same thing. I'm surprised you didn't hear me sooner. My footsteps could have woken Oghren from a drunken stupor." You look sheepishly at your feet, ashamed for not hearing Wynne approach. What was the point of being on watch if you were not prepared to hear attackers? "Tell me, Arya, what it is that is bothering you. I've noticed that lately you have not been yourself."

Wynne approaches your side and puts a comforting hand on your arm. You realize that you could tell her anything as well without facing judgment, but it's not her you want to talk to. You struggle to find the words to tell her, yet nothing comes. She smiles all the same.

"I know that this has something to do with Alistair. He was the one you fled from earlier, yet he was the one to bring you back. Perhaps now he is the one you should flee to." Her eyes are giving you a knowing look. "Go to him. Talk to him. He will not mind that it is the middle of the night. I do not believe we should leave tomorrow anyway, not with the day we had today. There will be time for sleep later. But now is the time to talk. Go. I'll take the next watch."

You smile gratefully, yet slightly embarrassed to realize that you're being so transparent. You wonder if anyone else has noticed, but decide that they probably have not. Morrigan would have made some sort of nasty comment, and Oghren would have joked. Wynne is just highly observant. Thanking her, you make your way to Alistair's tent. Your dog raises his head when he hears you walking, but rests it back down on his paws when he sees you're walking away from him. His eyes are still lit by the firelight, watching you. But you'll be back out here soon enough.

You gently open the flap and peek your head in. With the little amount of light you let in, you can vaguely see his outline under his blankets. His light snores reach your ears, and for some reason, it makes you smile. He seems so innocent, so at peace. You reconsider waking him up, but you still yearn to talk to him.

"Alistair?" You call softly.

So quickly you hardly see, he jumps up with his sword in hand, ready to face his attacker. After a moment, he realizes that it's you. At the same moment, you both realize that he is not wearing any clothing at all.

"Arya!" He yelps as you pull your head from the flap. You look down embarrassed at your feet, your face burning as you hear him shuffle around in his tent. Wynne looks over and smiles to herself, and you are grateful that she does not comment.

A few minutes goes by, and Alistair pulls back the flaps to his tent, inviting you inside. His face is bright red from embarrassment, and you can feel that yours is too, but you agree without words to not mention the previous moment.

"So," he says, clearing his throat. "What can I do for you in this late hour of the night? If you're looking for something specific, I may not be able to help you. Zevran, on the other hand..."

"I am looking for something specific, but not that," You say, throwing him a glare. Your face begins burning once again, and your heart skips a beat at the smile he gives you. But now's not the time for that. You entered his tent for a reason, and you're going to see that you get your mission accomplished. "You asked me about my past," You say quietly. You force yourself to look at him, even though you want to look down. You remind yourself that you trust him, that of all the friends you have, he is your best one. "Would you still like to know?"

You know the answer already, but you're giving him a way out, just in case. Logically, you know he won't take it, but the self-conscious part of you fears that he will. His eyes bore into yours, and you steadily hold his gaze, though inside you're shaking.

"If you are ready to tell me, than I am most certainly ready to listen." He sits and motions for you to do the same. You are grateful that his offer still stands, and that he is so willing. You sit across from him, facing him, that way you can force yourself to look at him while you speak.

"How much do you know about alienages in cities?" You ask.

He opens his mouth to say something, then quickly shuts it. After a long pause, he admits, "Not much, really."

You're sure he's heard something; every human in a city has, even if they never visited one. But he was probably told lies: Either that alienages were not so bad, or that City Elves were flea-bitten mongrels. You've heard all of those stories. You were probably the first City Elf he met that was not a servant.

You think back your alienage. Though you've never been to another one, you can imagine they're all fairly similar. "The standard of living is terrible. We live all below poverty. Most nights, many elves will go to bed hungry, too poor to feed themselves or their family that day. Few are lucky to have a decent paying job. My father was one of them. While I never went to bed hungry, I watched all of those around me who did. But we are simple and happy folk. Our elders remind us of when we were enslaved, and tell us to be happy we are free. In my alienage, my people loved to celebrate. Almost anything was a cause for celebration."

Alistair was listening intently, never taking his eyes off of you. You could practically hear him thinking, and you know that he knew none of this. You continue on.

"You asked me if I volunteered for the Grey Wardens. The answer is no, I did not. I was conscripted by Duncan. He... he saved my life." You pause and look down, trying to figure out where to go from there.

"He tends to do that, you know. He..." Alistair realizes he's talking about Duncan as if he's still alive, and quickly quiets down, dropping his gaze.

"When I first met Duncan, I admit I was not very friendly. In fact, I was downright rude. You do not often see humans in alienages, and when you do, they're often causing trouble. I told him to leave, and threatened to take my knives out at him. He just laughed, and even though I was impolite to him, he said nothing but kind words. I'll always remember that..." You trail off, grasping at the memory of the man who saved your life.

"That very day, I was to be married." Alistair's head snaps back up and looks at you. You see something flicker across his face... was it jealousy? But just as quickly as it came, it disappears. "I was finally of marriageable age, and like all good fathers, mine dutifully set up a good match. It was to be a double wedding. I was going to get married alongside my cousin, Soris.

"The morning of our weddings, a human named Vaughn came down to the alienage. He was the son of the local lord and thought that he could do as he pleased. He began running his mouth when Shianni, Soris' sister, broke a vase over his head. Needless to say, he was angry. He left with his cronies and returned to his castle, but I knew he'd be back.

"Later that day, I was standing on a stage with Soris, his fiancé, and my husband to be. His name was Nelaros. Just before we were to say our vows, Vaughn returned, this time with about a dozen guards. He said he wanted to have some fun of his own, and threatened to take Shianni back to his castle." You trail off again, looking down, the scene of Vaughn's return replaying in your head.

"What did you do?" Alistair's voice breaks the silence. You almost forgot he was there. It was as if you were telling the story to yourself.

"I stepped forward and told him to take me instead of her. He just laughed, and knocked me unconscious. The next thing I know, I awake inside one of the rooms in the castle, with Soris' fiancé and two other female elves. They told me the men took Shianni away. I knew at once I had to find her.

"The guards walked in a few moments later, with Soris close behind. When they saw him with his bow and arrows, and a sword, they laughed at him. He slid the sword right between their legs to me." You pause to remember the ghosts of their smiles still on their faces as you slew them.

You take a deep breath and continue. "Soris and I fought our way through the castle, slaying any guard we met. We eventually came to a room where we found the body of Nelaros. Soris said he came to help rescue me. One of the guards killed him." You begin to play with your middle finger on your right hand where you wear the wedding ring you rescued from your fiancé's body. Alistair doesn't seem to notice.

"We finally found Vaughn and his friends. Behind them on the ground was Shianni. She was..." Your breath catches in your throat as you see her in your mind, beaten and bloody. Alistair reaches out his hand and places it on yours, comforting you, reminding you that he's still there. You shake your head to clear it and continue. "Vaughn offered us money to leave and never return. He said he would forget. But I knew better than that. He wouldn't forget. And I wouldn't just leave without avenging my people. Neither would Soris. I think he was the one to kill Vaughn while I handled his friends. Pity, I would have loved to see the look on his face as he was killed by the female elf he was meant to rape."

Alistair squeezes your hand, but you let it go. The more comfort he gives you, the more likely you are to cry. You refuse to let that happen. You've made it through the worst part, now on to talk about Duncan.

"We returned to the village carrying Shianni. The elder was there, so was Duncan. Others took Shianni away to treat her while they asked Soris and me what happened. Soon after, guards arrived. When they asked who was responsible, I took all the blame. I saw Soris struggle with it behind me, but there was no use getting us both in trouble. His fiancé was still alive and well, and he still had a chance to be happy. I was never destined for that."

You grow quiet again, remembering the look on the guard's face as you took full responsibility. You knew he didn't believe you, that you didn't act alone, but he thanked you for being honest.

"As they were arresting me," You continue on. "Duncan asked them to release me into his custody. At first they refused, but when reminded of conscription, the guards handed me over. They told us we had to leave by nightfall, and that was that. I left with Duncan within the hour. You know the rest from there."

You and Alistair sit in silence for a while, both taking it all in. Then, suddenly, in a voice so small you hardly hear him, he asks a question.

"Did you love him?"

At first you believe he means Duncan. Duncan was an amazing man, and no one knew that better than Alistair. But as you look into his eyes, the small lantern causing them to flicker, you realize he's talking about Nelaros.

You shake your head. "I hardly knew him. He was polite, seemed dutiful, and was willing to take care of me. He put himself between the guards and me when they showed up during our wedding. He died for me. I hope he died bravely. For that I will always be grateful, but no, I did not love him."

The silence between the two of you begins to grow uncomfortable, and now you start believing you may have made a mistake by telling him. But after a few moments, he looks back up at you, and takes your hand again.

"Thank you for telling me," Is all he says.

It's a strange thing to say, you think, thanking you for telling him such a sad story. Then you realize he's not thanking you for the story; he's thanking you for letting him in and telling him your secrets. You flush red again and you don't know why. He's still holding your hand, and he's a lot closer now that the story is finished. When did he move so close? Or did you move closer unknowingly? Either way, the new found closeness makes your heart beat a little faster.

"You've already told me much about your past, it's only fair that I make you listen to mine," You say jokingly, though he doesn't smile. His gaze is fixed intently on you, and you start feeling even more nervous, even more anxious. His eyes are still flickering from the flame, disturbing the peaceful sea of green. "Thank you for listening," You say honestly. "And thank you for the rose. It truly did make me smile."

You nervously smile again, your heart beating even faster when he doesn't return it. His gaze is unbreakable, and you're memorized, almost hypnotized by the flickering in his eyes. And all of a sudden, you realize that his face is mere inches from yours. You can feel his warm breath from his slightly parted lips on your face. His eyes drop their gaze from yours, only to look at your lips, and you realize that you've stopped breathing.

His face is now so close to yours, you're sure he can hear your heart beating. He drops his hand from yours, only to place is gently on your cheek. He wipes away a tear that escaped your eye without you noticing and tucks your hair behind your ear. You close your eyes.

It must have been the cue he was waiting for, because suddenly his lips are on yours. You've been kissed before by boys in the alienage, but those kisses were unexpected and usually ended with you chasing the boy down with a stick and beating him senseless. Those kisses were hard, as if the boy slammed his face into yours. Those boys had rough, cut up lips from dehydration. Those kisses ended so quickly you hardly knew it happened until it was over.

Not this kiss, though. Alistair's lips were warm and smooth. His kiss was gentle, and you find yourself wanting more. As he slowly pulls away, his eyes still closed, you find yourself leaning in again. You place one hand on the back of his neck to bring him closer, while your other arm slides under his and curls around his back. His hand tangles itself in your hair while he snakes the other around your back, holding you close.

And suddenly, the softness of your kisses isn't enough for either of you. You begin pulling each other closer. The kisses become faster, harder, more passionate. You're not sure how, but you've managed to pull yourself into his lap (or did he pull you into his lap?), your legs on either side of his hips. His thumb grazes by a sensitive spot on your neck, and you gasp at the feeling that bolts through you. Alistair takes this opportunity to replace his thumb with his lips, and you can't think clearly anymore.

_Well, this is certainly not the reason I came into his tent tonight_..., you think as you begin to lose yourself.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Yay it's done! Enjoy some fluffy morning after romance!_

_Disclaimer: Still not mine…_

You're awake before your eyes open, realizing you're in unfamiliar surroundings. Using your other senses, you attempt to figure out where you are, and how you got there.

Without even moving, you can tell you're sore. But this soreness is different than what you usually feel the morning you awake after a battle. There is no specific area of your body that is in pain, so clearly you have not been hit by a sword or arrow during any sort of fight. You feel as if you exercised every muscle in your body to the extreme, including those you did not realize you had. Through all of your physical unease, however, you feel… content.

You next realize you're not wearing anything, not even your small clothes. That's not entirely odd. It has been quite some time since bandits and outlaws have surprised your party during the night. Summer is approaching, leaving the days hot and the nights unpleasant in your gear. For a few nights you slept in the nude, yet you're normally awoken every morning by a party member, and after giving Zevran more of a view of you than he ever deserved, you've at least kept your small clothes on. While your clothing situation may not be as strange, you can't remember where you've left your swords last night.

Finally, the position that you're sleeping in is not usual in the slightest. You've always slept on your back, whether it's been on a bed of hay or on the ground. But now you find yourself on your side. Your right arm is numb from sleeping on it, though your hand is rested on your own waist. Something else is resting on you close to your hand, but you believe it's just your faithful dog who has rolled over in the night and is now leaning on you. Your left arm is reached over a very strange feeling pillow, while your hand is holding something between your fingers.

Your head is not on a feathered pillow like it should have been, either. Whatever it is your head is resting on, it's a bit firmer than your pillow. Your cheek has a thin layer of sweat on it. The odor that fills your nose is odd… a mix of sweat and Alistair...

_Alistair…_

Memories from last night flood your mind, and you're now very able to tell why you are naked, and what exactly this pillow is. Without moving, you open your eyes. Neither of you bothered to throw a blanket over your bodies during the night, so the first thing you see when your eyes open is Alistair. _All of him_.

You feel your face ignite as you pull your view away. Careful not to move your head too much, you look around. You're lying with your head on his shoulder, his face turned to you so that his lips might be pressed against the top of your head. His left arm is under you with his hand resting on your hip. You follow the length of your own left arm across his chest and see that his fingers are entwined with yours.

_Oh Maker…_, you think. You've never woken up next to a man before. And Alistair has always been particular that one of you sleeps inside a tent, separated by the privacy the flaps allow. But right now, there is absolutely _nothing_ private between the two of you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, remembering where you only a day ago. At this time yesterday, you were laying in your own tent, under your own blanket, with no one but your dog next to you. You preparing to get up soon, perhaps to find more firewood or hunt a bird or rabbit for breakfast. Your dog was stretched out beside you, begging for a belly rub and five more minutes of sleep. The camp would soon start to become alive, and you would share your tea and breakfast with Alistair, who was nothing more than a friend. But now…

Now you're lying next to him, practically on top of him, and neither of you are wearing any clothing at all. You realize that your relationship will be different, _very_ different. Last night was the first time for both of you, and your friendship cannot return to where it was before last night.

You think very hard, trying to see if you feel any remorse, any regret for doing what you did last night. You decide that you don't feel any at all.

The question is, will he?

You sigh, gently sitting up, careful not to wake him. His arm now free of your weight, he groans slightly in his sleep and rolls over, his back towards you. You can't help yourself as your eyes wander to his rear, now exposed to you. Blushing furiously, you turn your head away. You wonder how you would feel if you caught him eyeing your naked body as you slept. You're unable to keep a grin off your face, no matter how hard you try.

You grab your small clothes and his shirt and shrug them on. You laughed quietly to yourself, remembering just how his shirt got torn in half in the first place. You pull his light blanket over the bottom half of his body, realizing he would feel embarrassed if you were covered up and he was still exposed.

You know you need to wake him soon. You need to talk about what happened and what it means to both of you. The two of you were closer than anyone in the group, but you thought it was because you two were the ones who started everything together. The two lone survivors of the Grey Wardens. For a long time, when it was just the two of you and Morrigan, the witch would often disappear once night came, leaving the two of you alone to talk. Morrigan would rarely speak while travelling, so the conversation would often be just between you and Alistair. Your party continued to grow, and while you tried to become acquainted with everyone in your group, you and your fellow Warden always found each other again. As Alistair had previously mentioned, you two have a lot of history together, so you always assumed your close bond was because of that.

Even as you think that, you know you're not being completely truthful with yourself. You've noticed how deep his eyes are. How relaxed his smile makes you. How the sound of his voice can sooth you. The roughness of his hands, the thickness of his hair, the contours of his shoulders and arm muscles…

Flushing again, you shake your head to clear it. All right, you've had feelings for him for some time now. But when did he ever make it seem that he had feelings for you?

Groaning to yourself, you smack yourself in the head. You're starting to sound like the boy-crazy elves you left behind.

You still have your doubts, however, when you gently shake his shoulders to wake him. But these doubts need to be said aloud, and not just thought in your head. "Alistair," you whisper quietly. He moans again and buries his head deeper in his pillow, muttering something you cannot understand. You can't help but trace your fingers down his back as you lean down closer to him. "Alistair, wake up."

You watch as his eyes flutter open and he brings a hand to wipe the sleep away from his eyes. He grumbles something incoherently again, then rolls to face you. At first, a smile begins to crawl across his face, and you feel relieved. But slowly, his eyes widen in horror and the smile fades from his lips.

"Good morning," you say, smiling sheepishly. He leans up, his eyes never leaving yours. You watch as he remembers everything from last night as well, and you're terrified of what the next thing will be out of his mouth.

"Good morning," he mutters, his eyes leaving yours, his face flushing.

_Slightly anticlimactic_, you think. _Well, at least he didn't scream and tell you to leave his tent._ Then, without thinking of what you're doing, without thinking of what he'll do, you lean forward and gently touch your lips to his.

His hand creeps around the back of your neck as his lips gently press against yours. Your fingers run through his hair then softly stroke his cheek, his stubble rough under your touch. The kiss itself is chaste, not showing any of the passion from the night before, but deep down you feel a strong feeling, as if your body innately knows what it's doing is right.

You pull away, leaving your hand on his cheek, while his hand falls to rest on top of your other hand. You stroke his cheek with your thumb, butterflies dancing around in your stomach. You've never woken up beside a man before, and while it's almost scary to feel so vulnerable, there is no other person better to feel that way than with Alistair.

"I'm not wearing anything underneath this blanket, am I?"

A giggle escapes your lips, and while the moment may have been broken, the overall feeling in the room has not. You shake your head no, and his cheeks flush as he toys with the end of the blanket. Still, he eyes you coyly as your stomach rids itself of the butterflies by beginning to do backflips. "Now, is that a good or bad thing?"

You feel your lips curling up into a smile and a deep, throaty chuckle escapes his lips. "Well, I guess that answers that question." He reaches back up to stroke your cheek, his hand pushing your hair out of your face. You scoot yourself closer and lean into him. Almost frightened, he leans in and hesitantly kisses you.

As he pulls away, a worried look masks his face. "So, last night…" he trails off, looking away from you. You don't respond, waiting for him to come out and say what he needs to. "I hadn't exactly planned that, you know. Not that it wasn't enjoyable! It really, really… really was. But… it was my first time. And yours too, I think." He looks up at you, waiting for you to confirm or deny it. You nod your head. He seems slightly relieved. "I always thought my first time would be a bit more… planned. Not planned… romantic? No… uh…" He looks away from you, seemingly ashamed. "Did we go too fast?"

He's asking you if you regret it. His voice was so small, so meek, and you know that he's put himself on the line for you. You reach over and grab his chin, gently pulling it towards you so he can see you. His eyes are afraid to meet yours, but they do all the same.

"Alistair, if you're asking me if I came in last night with the intention of sleeping with you, the answer is no, I did not. But am I angry or upset or ashamed? Not in the slightest. Alistair, last night I told you a story that I've never spoken aloud to anyone. I never thought I would have to. I never thought I would want to. But I found myself… _needing_ to tell you." You inhale deeply as he begins to smile a small, barely noticeable smile. But you notice it. "I trust anyone out there," you gesture to the camp. "With my life. They're risking their own lives to help us defeat the darkspawn. But you…." You shake your head, at a loss for words. "I've never trusted anyone nearly as much as I trust you. I… I've never felt this way about someone before."

The confession hangs in the air, and you squeeze your eyes shut, turning your head away. Admitting it out loud is much more difficult than you expected. He leans his head forward so his forehead rests on your shoulder.

"I, as well," he mutters.

You smile, relieved, though logically you should have known that. No matter how caught up in the heat of passion, Alistair is not the type of person to sleep with any woman who crawls into his tent. For him to do so with you proves that there are some deeper feelings.

Chuckling, you lift his chin so that your eyes are even, and his eyes drop to look at your lips. "Could we have waited until we at least admitted our feelings to each other? Possibly. But last night felt _right_. You can't deny that."

He shakes his head, then closes the gap between you. You're not sure how long you stay like that, lips slowly moving together, but you don't care. Everything about being with Alistair feels right: you both know it.

_A/N: Not entirely how I meant to end it that way, but that's how Alistair and Arya decided it should be. PS: If anyone's interested, I maaaaaay have written a missing chapter of the events from the night before. It also maaaaaay be a little (or a lot) racy. Once I'm finished editing it, I'll post it. Definitely needs a different rating though…_


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